


Surprise

by whenrabbitsattack (Maya)



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:34:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maya/pseuds/whenrabbitsattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Disclaimer:</b>  I own neither Flashpoint, nor the characters involved.  They belong to Pink Sky and CTV television.  I make no money from these works, they are for entertainment purposes only.</p><p><b>Rating:</b> PG (language) -- if that.</p><p><b>Notes</b>: Just because life made you miss Yuletide doesn't mean you should miss out. I hope you enjoy.  (Surprise?)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [groovekittie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovekittie/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I own neither Flashpoint, nor the characters involved. They belong to Pink Sky and CTV television. I make no money from these works, they are for entertainment purposes only.
> 
>  **Rating:** PG (language) -- if that.
> 
>  **Notes** : Just because life made you miss Yuletide doesn't mean you should miss out. I hope you enjoy. (Surprise?)

"No." Spike folded his arms across his chest and turned his head away in classic 'pout' mode. He looked like a three-year-old. A really, really, tall three-year-old, but the expression was unmistakable. In Lew's experience there were three ways to deal with temper-tantrum prone three-year-olds. One was to ignore them. Unfortunately, this would play right into what Lew suspected were Spike's plans. Another was to beg, plead, cajole and bribe, and that _never_ ended badly, all sarcasm included. The third... Spike was tall, but he was also skinny. Plus, he was in a T-shirt and worn-out jogging pants, both of which weighed a hell of a lot less than full-gear.

Lew stepped in and grabbed one of Spike's elbows, bending to hook a leg and pick the man up in a classic fireman's lift. "We're going."

"Hey!" Spike started to protest, then quieted, possibly realising the insanity of calling for his mother in this situation. He must have also realised his friend was being merciful in heading for the basement entrance instead of traipsing upstairs and leaving Spike to explain to his family why he had to be bodily removed from his apartment. He just grumbled under his breath about locking doors.

"And you're going to have fun." Lew closed the basement door behind him with his foot.

"I will _not_." Spike remained in counter-will mode.

"Fine, then you will pretend to have fun while you're sitting and being miserable."

"You suck." Spike said.

"That's what friends are for." Lew stopped and stared for a moment. The gate looked a little tricky. There was the option of throwing Spike over the fence, but knowing Spike, he'd land on his feet and start running. If there was one thing Spike could do, it was run. He contemplated kicking it down.

"Don't you dare." Spike seemed to read his mind. "You break that fence and I'll be the one fixing it."

Lew started to raise his foot. Spike reached out with one hand and unlatched the gate.

"Once I start fixing it, he'll decide it needs repainting. Then he'll realise the house-trim needs touching up, then the gutters need cleaning, the roof needs work..."

Lew walked through the now open gate.

"Close it. I don't want my dog to get out."

Lew did as he was told. That, at least, was a legitimate concern and not an excuse to delay. Spike's views on people who let their dogs run free in a world of traffic could be summed up in five words: _can't we just shoot 'em?_ He didn't mean the dogs.

"I mean it, though. As a friend, you absolutely suck." Perhaps realising he wasn't going to get out of things easily, Spike turned himself into a deadweight. Lew did his best to ignore it, but it wasn't easy. After all, Spike was only a relative lightweight.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time you want a favour." They were almost at the car. He'd left the passenger door slightly ajar, hoping that in this suburban neighbourhood he could get away with the few minutes he'd need. This way, though, he could pull the door open quickly, toss Spike inside and lock it. He hadn't strictly anticipated the need to carry the man, but he had been prepared to drag him. Pulling the door open with his foot, he dropped Spike onto the seat before locking the door. Spike lunged at the lock, but Lew had already considered that too, fixing the latch so it couldn't be opened from the inside.

Spike swore and then lunged for the driver's door, holding it closed, perhaps hoping that if he could keep Lew out long enough, he'd give up. Lew tried not to laugh. Spike would give up before he did. For one thing, it couldn't be comfortable to lie at that kind of a twisted angle. For another, Spike was not known for his patience.

Sure enough, after less than a minute Spike let go and Lew let himself into his own car. Spike sulked in the passenger seat.

"I just hope you're happy embarrassing me." Spike picked at his T-shirt. "'Cause that's what's going to happen when I'm seen like this."

In response, Lew reached into the backseat and picked up a bag. He dropped it in Spike's lap before starting the car and pulling away from the curb. "I had a feeling you might try that."

Spike pulled a shirt from the bag. He peered into the depths of the bag and frowned, before checking the size on the shirt. "How..."

"Some salesclerks are _good_ ," Lew told him. "Give them a height and a weight and they can fit almost anybody."

"How..." Suspicion was definitely on the rise in Spike's voice.

"How many convenience stores do we end up traipsing in and out of in a month? And how many of them have height strips?" Lew smiled, almost evilly. "As for your weight... heaviest man, you may never win, but... and gear's got a standard weight. Subtract that..."

"That is almost devious," Spike said. "And so unlike you. I would swear I am having an influence on you."

 _And I have won_. Lew didn't dare let it show. Spike didn't take well to losing; the best thing to do was not to gloat.

Sighing, Spike pulled his T-shirt over his head. Lew was somewhat impressed. Not many people had the talent to change clothes in a moving vehicle and still less had the self-possession to do so. Then again, this was Spike. He'd probably done more than his share of sprinting for the schoolbus while with his socks, shoes and jacket still in his hands. As for privacy, if he wanted that, he could have gotten a job that didn't involve time in a locker-room.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Spike at least looked presentable. He seemed resigned to what he thought was his fate. Mostly. "This is still a lousy idea. I hate blind dates, and I thought you knew that. I mean, you're never just meeting someone, you're meeting someone else's idea of someone, and then that never matches up with reality..." He trailed off as he spotted something out the window. "Is that..."

Lew swore silently. Trust this to be the time Spike was paying attention. "I'm sure lots of people drive mini-vans."

"Yeah, but that really looked like Wor..."

"Be one hell of a coincidence." Lew found a parking space.

"Yeah, I guess." Spike chewed at a fingernail. "Are you sure we can't just call this off? You could say I had the flu or something..."

"We're already _here_ ," Lew argued. He got out and went around to Spike's door to unlock and open it. He deserved a medal for this. At the very least, a plaque. "Let's go. Do not make me carry you again."

Spike made a face and got out of the car. "I hope you realise that you're paying tonight, seeing as I don't even have my wallet. And even if she's not a big eater, I plan to be."

"See? That's the spirit." Lew watched as Spike straightened out his clothes. The shirt still had a tag attached. Lew reached out and snapped it off. "Let's go."

"And wine. Need to have a decent wine."

"Okay, Spike." Lew started to herd his friend towards the restaurant doors.

"'Cause if it's anything like the last time you set me up, I am going to _need_ that wine."

"Oh, I'm sure you've got all the whine you need," Lew muttered.

"Hmph." Spike didn't even bother to answer that.

It was only as the maître d' led them towards the back of the restaurant that Spike started getting suspicious again. By then, it was too late. Spike looked around at the table clearly set for a party of more than four before turning to confront Lew.

"Surprise." Lew tried to look innocent. It was hard given that he knew behind him Greg and Ed were grinning like fools.

"For what?" Spike started slightly as Jules appeared and gave him a hug. "It's not..."

"Oh, like you don't know." Ed pushed his way past and clapped Spike on the shoulder before going to claim a seat at the table.

"Come on, Spike. It's not every day one of us gets published." Greg's smile was pride all the way.

Spike turned bright red. "Awww... it's not that big... it's just a journal..."

"Did you hear that, everybody?" If they hadn't, Greg was going to make sure they did. Lew almost felt sorry for Spike. Almost. "According to Spike, this is nothing serious. It's _just_ a journal article."

"It's not like it's something people are going to read," Spike mumbled. He stared at his feet. "It's not a big deal, or anything." It was easy to see he was touched, however.

Lew shared a look with Greg and nodded. It had been the sarge's idea to do something to recognise Spike's achievement, and Lew had been the one to point out that Spike would never go for it. It was a funny thing about Spike – despite appearances, he was actually the last to admit to his accomplishments. Even funnier was the fact that in spite of all his 'look at me' behaviour, he was probably the shyest person Lew had ever met. That was the real reason he hated blind dates, not anything to do with 'expectations'.

Greg left to join the others at the table, leaving Lew with Spike. "Sorry. I would have told you, but..."

"It's okay." Spike awkwardly punched Lew in the shoulder. "But I knew I saw Wordy's van."

"Do I still suck as a friend?" Lew asked.

Spike paused for a moment then shook his head. "Naw. We're good."

"Good." Lew leaned in as though to impart a secret. "'Cause sarge is actually the one buying. If you still were planning to be a big eater."

A smile spread slowly across Spike's face. "That sounds like a plan. That definitely sounds like a plan."

"Good." Lew followed his friend to the table. "Now, aren't you glad I didn't listen to you?"

"That is another story. And you will pay for that."

Lew wasn't worried. By then, Spike will have forgotten, if not forgiven everything. For now it was just good times, good friends and small celebrations that would become good memories. Life was good.


End file.
